


The Real MVP

by Haicrescendo



Series: Quarantine And Chill 2020 [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Afternoon delight, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Derek could so easily be Sokka’s weed guy but he’s his lube guy instead, Desperate times call for desperate measures, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Gratuitous Pet Names, M/M, Praise Kink, Rimming, Zuko’s ever-present brain weasels, don’t @ me, idiots to lovers, real talk tho Sokka wants to murder Zuko’s exes, service top!sokka, sexual negotiation, so soft and so slutty, this is soft slutty garbage, when the gaps in your boyfriend’s romantic education require a hang glider to get across, when you go into quarantine as pining bffs and come out of it basically married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24079756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haicrescendo/pseuds/Haicrescendo
Summary: [“I have saved this Tuesday!” Sokka announces, rattling the bag upon reentry.Zuko doesn’t even look up from his phone as he deadpans, “It’s Thursday.”Okay, so Sokka is still having trouble getting his days right without checking. At least he’s gone back to sleeping at night! Going to bed at night is way easier when you have a cute, cuddly boyfriend who starts falling asleep around eleven o’clock. It also helps that he and Zuko are on solid gold butt-touching terms.It’s been a while since Sokka has been on butt-touching terms with someone and it’s amazing.]Or,Sokka knows a guy, gets laid, and introduces Zuko to the merits of an afternoon delight.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Quarantine And Chill 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722742
Comments: 133
Kudos: 3500
Collections: HZH Horny ATLA Fic





	The Real MVP

**Author's Note:**

> I promised y’all a part 2 to Quarantine And Chill and let nobody say that I don’t fuckin’ deliver on my promises. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please leave a comment letting me know! Writing pornography is hard, and feedback fuels the writing and weekly updates! I can be found screeching on tumblr @sword-and-stars!

* * *

  
Sokka knows a guy.

Well, he knows several guys, more than a few, actually, but more specifically he knows a very, very _helpful_ guy. This guy happens to be the manager and co-owner of _Banana In Public_ and he is going to be the one to save Sokka’s ass. Well, maybe not his ass but he’s definitely going to revolutionize Sokka’s sex life.

Derek is a good dude. Derek was a business major. Derek would have failed accounting if it hadn’t been for Sokka.

Derek owes Sokka _big time._

It’s not hard to call on the favor that he’s owed; all it really takes is asking nicely and doing a fun little shout out during a stream to plug his YouTube channel and Derek, lifesaving Derek, is putty in Sokka’s desperate, slutty hands.

Not that Sokka has ever done a drug deal in his life, but this feels like a drug deal.

There is absolutely nothing illegal about sending a good buddy some money to buy what feels like a lifetime’s worth of lube and extra condoms, but it definitely feels shady to have them delivered to your front door by the person who is effectively your dealer. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and modern problems call for modern solutions, and Sokka doesn’t know when he’s going to be allowed to leave his apartment for anything other than groceries.

Problem? City-wide quarantine for all non-essential employees, businesses, and otherwise human people. Solution? Conveniently make friends with a future co-owner of a sex store when you’re both idiots in college and stay on good enough terms with them that they will willingly deliver lube and condoms to your front door.

Better than _fucking Amazon_.

The inevitable baby boom in nine months will show everyone how essential condoms are.

He doesn’t tell Zuko about his deal because if it falls through, the disappointment will be astronomical, and Sokka wants to be Qurantine Sex-Time World Champion. Quarantine Sex-Time World Champions don’t make promises they can’t keep.

Sokka’s phone buzzes.

_yo come get your shit man_ with a bevy of eggplant emojis is Derek’s very professional business text, but whatever. The man pulled through. Sokka is going to send him a fruit basket. Possibly with eggplants in it.

Would someone put an eggplant in a fruit basket? He’ll have to look it up.

“Scoot for a minute, sweetie,” he says. Zuko grumbles a little but lifts his head up out of Sokka’s lap enough for him to be able to get up. “I’ve gotta go check something.”

Derek is a delight, but Derek is also an _asshole._

The package he’s left is not even a little bit subtle.

Sokka asked for nondescript and discreet and what he’s received is the exact opposite. It’s in a birthday bag, for god’s sake, a _ridiculously huge_ birthday bag that’s covered in celebratory balloons and _glitter_.

_Im gonna kill u derek_ is what he rage texts initially, then follows it up with _ur_ _awesome THANK U._

“I have saved this Tuesday!” Sokka announces, rattling the bag upon reentry. 

Zuko doesn’t even look up from his phone as he deadpans, “It’s Thursday.”

Okay, so Sokka is still having trouble getting his days right without checking. At least he’s gone back to sleeping at night! Going to bed at night is way easier when you have a cute, cuddly boyfriend who starts falling asleep around eleven o’clock. It also helps that he and Zuko are on solid gold butt-touching terms.

It’s been a while since Sokka has been on butt-touching terms with someone, and it’s _amazing._

Sokka shakes the bag again.

“Ask me what I’ve got!” 

“Is it pot?” Zuko asks without looking. Sokka gives the bag another, more aggressive shake.

“ _No_ , it’s not pot. Come on, man. Give me a real guess!”

“Is it a toaster?”

“I hate you. So much.”

“No, you don’t.”

No, Sokka definitely does not, but wow. Zuko might be cute and unexpectedly sweet to actually be in a relationship with, but he’s still the same, prickly sass-hole that Sokka’s spent ten years trying desperately (and failing) not to be completely in love with.

Sokka sighs a little and approaches the couch, kneels down, and leans over to kiss Zuko on the forehead. Christ, the dude still blushes every time Sokka does something like that and it’s amazing.

_Precious_.

“Ask me—“ kiss, “what I’ve—“ kiss, “got.”

“I don’t know, Sokka. What have you got?”

Sokka plunges his hand into that garish, awful birthday bag and pulls out a bottle of lube, brandishing it in Zuko’s direction like a weapon.

“Derek has come through for us.”

“ _Derek?_ Serial stoner, nearly died microwaving an Arby’s sandwich in his dorm because ‘the wrapper makes it taste better’, Derek?”

“He would rather you forgot about that,” Sokka says loftily.

“I will _never_ forget about that.” Nevertheless, Zuko looks at the bottle of lube with a funny mixture of excitement and trepidation. “It’s probably fine, but you should definitely wipe down everything in there. There’s bleach spray—“

“Under the sink. I know how you roll.”

Sokka sets down his bag of goodies and then slumps forward to drape himself over Zuko, nuzzling into his neck. He’s still getting used to actually being able to just do stuff like this when he wants—after so many years of choreographing his behavior to not be _too much,_ it’s been really nice to just _be_.

And here’s the thing of it all: Sokka is a tactile, affectionate guy, but he wouldn’t be nearly so much if Zuko didn’t so obviously want it. It’s not like both of them haven’t dated or seen other people, but Sokka’s _never_ thought that Zuko’s dated anyone who actually gives him what he needs, which is, _clearly_ , enough love and physical affection to drown in. If you don’t know him well, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would need it but, _Jesus,_ Sokka has never met anyone who needed genuine caring for more than Zuko. 

He knew it when he was sixteen, and he knows it now.

Zuko complains endlessly about being babied or treated gently, but he soaks it all in like a sponge; it makes Sokka never want to stop.

“I know it’s barely, like, noon,” Sokka mumbles into Zuko’s throat, idly pressing in kisses between words, “But we’re here now, if you wanted to...”

“In the middle of the day?” Zuko sounds almost scandalized, which is _adorable_ , but that definitely was not a no. His voice hitches on his own question mark.

“What? You’ve never had an afternoon delight before? _For shame._ ”

Sokka’s proclivities are really not _that_ out there, but god. To have never had sex in the middle of the day is a goddamned tragedy, like many of the gaps he’s been finding in Zuko’s romantic experiences.

Gaps that absolutely should not be there.

“Sokka, we haven’t even eaten yet.”

“That’s not a no, sweetheart. If you don’t want to, just say you don’t want to.” Sokka pulls himself up off the floor and casually sits on his boyfriend, straddling his hips on the couch and leaning down to touch foreheads. “You don’t have to say yes to everything. You don’t even have to say yes to _anything._ But if you want to, I want to. All you’ve got to say is yes or no. It’s _fine._ It’s just me.”

And this is something else that Sokka is learning: that Zuko sometimes feels like everything has to be all or nothing, that he’s got some sort of obligation to give a blanket yes to everything to get anything. Sokka doesn’t like to think about where he could have learned that because it’ll start making his heart hurt, and then he’ll have to go and hit someone over it.

The expression that slips over Zuko’s face is soft and vulnerable and so genuinely worried that Sokka just needs to squeeze the hell out of him, so he does.

“I don’t _not_ want to,” Zuko mumbles, hugs Sokka back without thinking about it. “I want to. I just...I have to _shower._ ”

“Didn’t you shower last night?”

“I have to shower again.”

Maybe with someone else or if he was a little younger and a little dumber, Sokka would have teased or pushed a little harder, but he knows better. Zuko doesn’t have to say that something is stressing him out because Sokka can see it in the tightness of his jaw and in the concerned furrow between his eyes. Maybe it’s not a big deal to him, but it’s not about him this time.

So in the end all he says is a gentle, “Okay,” and shifts enough that Zuko can slide out from under him and get to his feet. “My room when you’re done?”

They’ve been sleeping a lot in Zuko’s, lately.

At some point they’re probably going to have to make a decision on which room is going to be The Room but that’s not something to deal with right now. The nice thing about doing this in _Sokka’s_ room is that he knows where all of his shit is, and he has no compunctions over rummaging through his own crap. Zuko’s bedroom is so unbelievably type-A that Sokka’s caught himself smoothing out wrinkles in _blankets_. Of course, how much of that has to do with Zuko’s actual personality and how much has to do with all the shit he’s spent years in therapy dealing with remains to be seen. 

Sokka’s not sure there’s a difference and doesn’t think that it matters.

“Yours, then,” Zuko says. His voice is soft but a little rough, and the familiar tension ( _so_ different from normal stress) in it sends a pleasant little shiver all the way down to Sokka’s guts. 

The minute Sokka hears the door to the bathroom shut and the water start going, he scrambles off the sofa, grabs that godawful gift bag, and makes a beeline for his bedroom.

* * *

Sokka’s heart feels like it’s about to thunder out of his chest when he hears the water stop running.

It would be way too sleazy to wait naked in bed for someone, even if that’s how they’ll both end up, so he ends up changing into a tank top and a pair of basketball shorts with nothing underneath. Sokka can’t imagine Zuko just waltzing in here in his birthday suit and he doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Sokk enjoys sex in pretty much every way he’s ever had it. He’s not too humble to say that he’s good in bed, and there’s nothing better than having fun with a partner that you trust, and in the end, everyone gets what they want.

Sokka is lucky in that the worst sex he’s ever had was just mediocre and ultimately harmless. They’ve never talked about it— _really_ talked about it, but Sokka knows that Zuko hasn’t been quite so lucky. 

He wants to be good for him. He wants to make it so good that when Zuko thinks about getting laid he doesn’t have to feel nervous at all, because it’s just _Sokka_. He knows that good experiences can’t ever truly erase bad ones but they can bandage them. Zuko’s nerves have nothing to do with Sokka, but that doesn’t mean that they aren’t his problem to help with.

Sokka’s left the door cracked but Zuko knocks anyway.

“Come on in, honey,” he says invitingly when his boyfriend peers inside.

Sokka’s glad he wore clothes because he _totally_ called it—Zuko’s definitely dressed, and his hair, damp and curling just a little the way it does when it’s not quite dry, is tied up out of his face.

Even in boxers and an ancient t-shirt from university, the man is _gorgeous_. That shirt might be an oldie but it’s a goodie, just this side of too small and hugging Zuko’s chest and arms so perfectly that Sokka could fucking cry.

Sokka reaches out and makes grabby hands.

“Fuck, you’re pretty. Come here,” he says, “I wanna hug you.”

Zuko doesn’t have to be asked twice. Sokka finds himself flat on his back with an armful of warm, cuddly roommate.

“Feel better?”

Zuko nods against his cheek and presses a kiss to Sokka’s jaw, tucking his hands up the sides of Sokka’s tank top.

“You still wanna…?”

“Yeah.” Zuko’s answer is quiet but unhesitating. Sokka feels something loosen in his chest. 

“Okay,” Sokka says, “Okay.” He shifts a bit and then rolls to settle thighs over slim hips. “Are you nervous?”

Zuko opens his mouth immediately, probably to say no, and then changes his mind. 

“....Yeah, a little,” he admits like it’s physically painful. “It’s, uh, it’s been a while. Like a _while_ , a while.”

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna take such good care of you. Okay?” Sokka leans down and presses his lips to Zuko’s, frames his face with his hands, and tries not to drown in his own heartbeat. “Can I do that?”

Golden eyes go wide and even Zuko can’t pull back the naked, desperate want in his face before Sokka can see it.

“Please,” he breathes, “Please take care of me.”

It’s not meant to be sexy, it’s _really_ not, but a bolt of heat goes down Sokka’s spine straight to his dick. It’s not the vulnerability that gets him but the trust, and something about having someone like Zuko, who’s so self-sufficient sometimes that it physically hurts, ask for something like that feels powerful and heady. Sokka thinks he could get drunk on that feeling.

“I will. I’m gonna make it so good for you, sweetheart.” Everytime Sokka calls him that, Zuko gives this gorgeous little shudder, and he can’t get enough of it. It’s not a hardship to call him sweet names or compliment him, not even a little bit, but the satisfaction of being able to do it is overwhelmed entirely by the beautiful reactions that he gets in return every time he does.

Zuko’s always been beautiful and pretty and a sweetheart, and Sokka _finally_ gets to tell him so to his face.

“You talk a lot,” Zuko mumbles in a futile attempt to distract Sokka from the color rising in his cheek and creeping down under the neckline of that delightfully tight-in-all-the-right-ways school shirt. Needless to say, it doesn’t work.

“I don’t know. I think I talk just the right amount. Are you complaining, gorgeous?”

Zuko’s breath catches, holds, and Sokka wants to cry. 

“No,” he finally manages, voice hoarse and rough like he’s been shouting, even though he’s been very, very quiet.

“Good. Do you trust me?”

“...Yes.”

Sokka smiles down at him, warm and bright.

“Okay. Lose the shirt and roll over, then.”

Zuko peels off his school shirt and Sokka can’t resist dipping his head down to give one of his nipples a playful taste. The startled yelp he gets is one hundred percent worth it, as is the very unsubtle twitch of Zuko’s dick inside his sweatpants. Sokka moves out of the way so Zuko can roll over onto his belly and adjusts his own position. It’s easy to slot himself between Zuko’s legs, knees under Zuko’s thighs and pressing his hips flush against his ass.

Zuko doesn’t so much as breathe.

“Take it easy, honey,” he croons, “We’ve got plenty of time. I’m not in any rush.” 

Sokka reaches out with both hands and, starting at the nape of Zuko’s neck, runs his fingertips down his shoulders, down his spine, all the way down to the slight dip at his hips to press in where he knows Zuko’s got a hot spot. He’s rewarded with a groan and the feeling of tense muscles underneath him relaxing.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Relax. I’m gonna give you everything you want.” That’s certainly Sokka’s intention, but saying it aloud somehow makes it feel even more true than it is in his head. “I want you relaxed and comfy and happy. I’m not complaining about getting my hands all over you.”

Zuko makes a funny little grouchy noise under his breath.

“Got a problem with that?” Sokka asks.

“...I can’t do anything for you like this, though.”

At the absolute ridiculousness of that statement, Sokka has no other choice but to lean forward and plaster himself to Zuko’s back, scraping his teeth along the back of his neck and rocking his hips against him.

“Sweetie, if you don’t like this for its own sake that’s one thing, but if you think I’m not getting anything out of it, you are _so wrong.”_ Sokka is getting _so much_ out of this, thank you very much. “You’re free to touch me however you like but right this second, if it’s all the same, I want to focus on _you.”_

Sokka _loves_ shit like this and especially loves it with Zuko, who doesn’t know what the hell to do with Sokka’s attention now that he has it. God, he’s _always_ had it. Sokka’s got ten goddamn years of pining and devotion and unrelenting sexual tension to make up for and he’s starting right this second with Zuko’s smooth, pale back under his hands.

“Talk to me, baby. Has anyone ever really taken their time with you? Just spent as much time as you wanted just touching you?” Sokka very much doubts it, and Zuko confirms it with a mute shake of his head. “That is a fucking _tragedy_.” Sokka’s never going to be able to keep his hands to himself again, now that he knows that. He keeps rubbing patterns into Zuko’s skin, using just enough pressure to work through the knots of tension where Zuko’s body carries the weight of his brain and just enough nail to make it interesting. “Feel good?”

“Y-yeah,” Zuko mumbles, “It feels _really_ good.” His voice is soft and honest with pleasure, and the cadence of it makes warmth uncoil in Sokka’s stomach.

“Good, I’m glad,” Sokka tells him and works his hands down the waistband of Zuko’s sweatpants. “Can we get rid of these? Please?”

Zuko nods so hard that his ponytail swishes, and Sokka slides the pants down in one fluid motion. He’s wearing nothing underneath, and there’s something really, really sexy about all that pale skin under him while Sokka’s still completely clothed.

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” Sokka mumbles and stretches his fingers out over the planes of Zuko’s waist and up his ribs. “You know that, right?” He knows that Zuko doesn’t think that his looks are anything special but god, if he could see himself right now, he’d never think that again. It’s beautiful and borderline pornographic, the way that the other man’s back arches at his words, opening the v of his legs enough to sweeten Sokka’s view.

He can’t resist reaching between them and touching, a single stroke of his fingers from his balls up to his entrance.

“Sokka, are you sure that this is—I feel like a fucking _pillow queen_ like this,” Zuko protests weakly, shuttling up abruptly when Sokka’s hand circles his cock and rubs him tip to root. The noise that comes out of him instead is high and startled and gorgeous.

“If you don’t like it, tell me,” Sokka says and lets go of his cock to get two handfuls of his ass instead and squeeze, “But if you could see yourself right now, sweetheart. Fuck. I could touch you forever. Again, don’t think for a second that this isn’t doing it for me.” Because Sokka’s harder than he thinks he’s ever been in his life, and yeah, he definitely wants Zuko’s hands all over him too. But what he wants right now is to drown him in his own pleasure and _give_ until it’s enough. “Please let me do this for you.” He wrenches down his shorts and rubs his dick, hot and hard, down Zuko’s asscrack. “ _Please_ , sweetheart.”

Sokka is not above begging and Zuko’s protests die in his throat. He twists around a little so he can look Sokka in the face, and his eyes are huge and a little wild and more than a little bit wrecked. There’s not a force on earth that could stop Sokka from rocking forward and shifting enough to kiss him, licking into his mouth to taste his tongue. 

Zuko nips at his lower lip and it turns out that Sokka isn’t above whining, either.

“Okay,” Zuko agrees, finally, when his lips are wet and red and well-kissed, just the way Sokka wants them.

“Maybe not being able to leave the house is a good thing,” he whispers, low and filthy, “Means we can fuck whenever we want. I’m so fucking easy you could ask for it anywhere and I’d give it to you. All you’d ever have to do is ask and you have it.” Zuko’s toes curl and Sokka rubs, very gently, between his cheeks until he squirms. “I wanna fuck you on the couch sometime. Just spring it on me, I won’t tell you no, okay?”

Zuko’s breath shudders, stops, and then he sighs, ragged and shivery. A shy, teasing grin is a good look on him.

“Fuck me like this first and then we’ll see.”

Sokka’s own smile widens.

“Deal.”

And then without a single word of warning, Sokka’s scooting down to kiss the small of Zuko’s back.

“What are you…?”

“Something in my skill set that I’ve never been able to put on a resume. Ass up, please,” Sokka tells him brightly and ducks down, spreads Zuko’s cheeks with his hands, and makes one slow, purposeful swipe with his tongue all the way from the perineum up. Zuko doesn’t have longer than a second to make a single note of confused noise before it tapers off into a shocked squeak that cuts off to sharp silence.

He doesn’t even _breathe_.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” Sokka asks gently, petting Zuko’s hip with his hand. “Talk to me.”

“Sokka, that’s so—“

“Amazing?”

“ _Filthy_.”

“Bet you didn’t know you were being so proactive with your showering habits, huh?” Zuko squirms a little and hides his face in Sokka’s pillow, and _god_ , he looks so good spread out on Sokka’s sheets. He looks like he belongs there, all pale skin and dark hair that’s coming loose from its tie and if Sokka doesn’t touch him, he feels like he’s going to burn up and die. “Can I do it again?”

“You...you _want_ to?” 

There are a lot of things about how Zuko’s been treated by his previous relationships that Sokka could go spill some blood over, but the amount of insecurity in Zuko’s voice right now is _enraging._

“Sweetheart,” he says, hands gentle but voice steely with feeling and his own determination to be understood and found trustworthy, “I don’t do anything I don’t wanna do. I’ve wanted you here in my bed for what’s going on double digits in years now. Do you think I’m suddenly going to catch a case of, like, sexual buyer’s remorse? Because spoiler alert: _I’m not gonna_.” Sokka dips and plants a kiss straight on the curve of Zuko’s buttcheek. “I wanna put my mouth anywhere you’ll fucking have it, okay? If you want me to kiss your ass—“ he drops a matching one to the other cheek, “Then by god, I’m good for it.”

Zuko’s silent just long enough for Sokka’s heart to sink, and then finally, eventually, he nods his head into Sokka’s pillow.

“Please,” he finally mumbles, “Please keep going.”

“ _Good,_ honey, so good.” The casual praise feels right coming out of his mouth and Zuko muffles a whimper into the pillow. Sokka didn’t even _touch_ him. “Oh my god. Oh my god, _baby_.” He can’t stop fucking smiling, huge and delighted and stupid. “You like hearing stuff like that? I didn’t want to, like, embarrass you or anything but shit, if you’re into it...you’re, like, fucking _perfect_ for me, you know that, right?”

Zuko is back to not breathing again.

“Sweetheart,” he croons, makes a pass with his hand over Zuko’s thigh, feels Zuko shiver like he’s freezing, “ _So good_ , sweetheart.” It’s easy, _so_ easy, to nudge Zuko’s legs just a little wider and lean in to tongue at him, laving at all of his soft spots and drinking in Zuko’s quiet pants mixed with the occasional whimper. 

He _loves_ this, Sokka realizes with delight. Zuko’s quiet and as still as he can manage, but he can’t keep from squirming when Sokka kisses him down there, hot and wet and open mouthed.

This is something that Sokka likes doing, mostly because he’s a shameless deviant, but _god_ , Zuko’s reactions are so fucking beautiful that he feels like his heart might stop. The other man’s hands are clenched tightly in Sokka’s blue sheets, and when Sokka pulls back to look at him, he gets a split second of Zuko staring at him, _spellbound_ , before he notices and looks away.

That won’t do.

“Look at me, baby,” Sokka insists, rubs the pad of his thumb over Zuko’s entrance, wet and slick from his mouth, “Fuck, I want you to. It feels good, right? When I touch you there?”

“Yeah,” Zuko whispers back. His cheeks are flushed red and so are his lips where he’s bitten them. 

“Then _watch me._ ”

The cry that tears itself out of Zuko’s throat when Sokka uses his mouth and hands at the same time sears itself into Sokka’s whole heart. It’s not quite a sob but it’s near enough, and Sokka fumbles his hand out to reach for the bottle of lube.

“Can I—?”

“ _God, yes,”_ Zuko tells him, bright-eyed and hoarse and desperate enough to send a hard, sharp thread of lust straight to Sokka’s dick, “Please, yes, fuck me, please.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart, _anything_ ,” Sokka says, taking his hands off Zuko just long enough to wrench his shirt off over his head and shimmy out of his shorts. “Roll over, please? I wanna be able to see you.”

And hold him, and kiss him, and all those other sickeningly romantic things he’s been wanting to do with Zuko ever since he realized that his ‘crush’ was as intense and persistent as the man himself. Zuko rolls easily onto his back in one fluid movement and lifts his hips for Sokka to slide a pillow underneath. He’s easily the prettiest person that Sokka’s ever had in his bed, and even though he swore he was going to hurry up to get to the main course, Sokka can’t resist slotting himself between Zuko’s legs to wrap an arm around Zuko’s shoulders to kiss him, gently and with all the _love_ he’s been keeping inside him for years.

There’s a confident sweetness in the way that Zuko doesn’t hesitate to hold him back and in the way he sighs into Sokka’s mouth like he’s just come home.

The click of the cap on the lube sounds deafening in the quiet, and Sokka warms it up between his fingers before he reaches down to prepare him properly. Zuko’s relaxed enough that that first finger sinks into him easily, and Sokka marvels at how he’s found himself so lucky, and tells him so.

Zuko blinks at him, blatantly shocked through his own haze of arousal.

_”You’re_ the lucky one?” he asks, incredulous. “I don’t think so.”

“I think so.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“Are you for real gonna argue with me over who’s luckier right when I’m trying to fuck you— _stop laughing,_ ” Sokka sputters, “Every time you laugh it’s like you’re trying to snap my fingers off.”

This does exactly nothing to quell Zuko’s peals of unexpected laughter.

“I thought you wanted to be the funny one!”

“I’ll give you funny,” Sokka threatens mockingly, and gives a sharp thrust with his hand that has Zuko’s laughter cutting off sharply into a breathy gasp that rolls his hips, “Shit, honey. Shit. You’re the fucking best.”

Zuko’s answer is to reach down and take himself, and Sokka in hand and stroke them together, throwing off Sokka’s rhythm entirely with an embarrassing amount of ease.

“Are you done torturing me?”

“I’m not _torturing_ you,” Sokka defends himself with a grin, three fingers in and enjoying every second of it, “I’m being thorough. _Very_ thorough.”

“I’ll fuck myself if I have to, don’t think I won’t.”

Demanding is a side that Sokka has yet to get from him in bed, but he loves it, just like he loves the shyness and the sweetness, too. Over the years, Sokka’s found that there’s very little that he doesn’t like about Zuko. Even the annoying, pain in the ass parts.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You _won’t,”_ Zuko’s eyes are huge and blown out and he really does look and sound like he risks exploding if Sokka doesn’t fuck him soon, “I swear, you won’t, okay? I want it, Sokka, you said you’d give me what I wanted and _I want it._ ” He grinds his hips desperately against Sokka’s hand, and that’s _it_ , Sokka’s _gone_ and done resisting. 

He pulls his hand out of Zuko and drinks in the man’s whine with a soft, filthy kiss that comes with the drag of tongue and teeth.

Sokka’s so distracted by Zuko’s expectant anticipation that it takes him a try and a half to put on the condom, and when he lines himself up, he feels both of them quake.

“Ready?”

“So ready.”

It takes everything Sokka has to not rush it, to make Zuko take his cock slowly, because the squeeze is hot and _perfect_ and everything he’s ever wanted. Zuko’s toes curl and he hooks his ankles around Sokka’s back in an attempt to pull him in closer, and the look on his face is _unbelievable,_ soft-eyed and vulnerable.

“Oh,” is all that comes out of his mouth, so soft and quiet that Sokka might have missed it if he’d been less attentive. “ _Oh._ ”

“Are you good, sweetheart?” Sokka asks when his hips are flush and pressing into Zuko’s with no farther to go, leaning down to nuzzle into Zuko’s neck. “Talk to me.”

“I’m good,” Zuko breathes, pale hands clenched around Sokka’s upper arms. “I’m good. _You’re_ good. You feel really good.”

Sokka’s heart squeezes hard in his chest and he doesn’t know how to do anything but kiss him—his lips, his throat, the hollow of Zuko’s collarbone, the very edge of roughened, scarred skin around his eye.

“ _You_ feel good,” he says. “Can I move? Tell me when.” Sokka stays very still, even when Zuko gives an experimental roll of his hips against him, feeling him out. Even that little bit of friction is excruciatingly good, simultaneously overwhelming but also not nearly enough. 

Finally, Zuko nods, dark hair falling into his eyes. Sokka pushes it back and out of his face, can’t resist petting his head a little and stroking down his jawline to cradle his cheeks in his palms.

“Please,” is all he manages, and even that sounds like it catches somewhere in his throat. He looks exposed in a way that Sokka’s not used to seeing, not uncomfortable but definitely more than a little unmoored. 

“Okay, honey, okay,” Sokka says soothingly and has to kiss his forehead or he’ll die, has to hold him when he pulls out and makes that first thrust in or he’ll _die_. 

Maybe it’s the sun shining in through the window and reminding them that it’s early yet and adding to the decadence of it all, or maybe it’s the way that Zuko’s whole body relaxes into Sokka’s touch, but all he wants to do, for the rest of his life, is stay here in this bed with him. Zuko’s hands around his shoulders keep him close and Sokka fucks into him gently, and slowly, and without expectation. 

“Feeling good?”

“So good,” Zuko mumbles contentedly and the sappy smile that tips his lips up is worth the ten years of being a pining idiot, because Sokka gets to have this now. “Feels _so_ good.”

“Good, sweetheart, it’s supposed to feel good.”

It’s a cliche, such a trashy, romantic cliche, but Sokka swears that seeing Zuko so relaxed and happy is giving him an out of body experience. 

The sex is lazy and easy and soft and Sokka’s orgasm sneaks up on him out of nowhere, crashing down on his head like an unexpected wave at the beach. 

“Oh my _god,_ ” he groans and fucks Zuko through it, pulls out, and then immediately wraps his lips around Zuko’s cock. The man yelps in surprise and nearly kicks Sokka in the head, stops himself just in time. Sokka snickers at him.

“Shut up,” Zuko grumbles, “I was surprised.”

Sokka pulls up off his dick long enough to tease, “I’m a surprising guy,” before dropping his head down and taking dick all the way to the back of his throat, swallowing hard around the initial urge to gag on it and reveling in the look on Zuko’s face, almost like he’s just found religion.

He’s louder being blown than he is during anything else and Sokka loves being able to pull the cries and moans out of him that he tries so hard to keep to himself. When Zuko comes, moments after a frantic warning, Sokka swallows him down and only pulls off when Zuko’s too oversensitive to take it anymore.

“Get over here,” Zuko makes grabby hands at him and Sokka obeys after tossing the tied off condom in the trash, scrambling up to share the pillow and cuddling into Zuko’s warm side. It feels good to lay there, naked in the middle of the afternoon and sprawled out on top of the sheets with someone to snuggle with.

Zuko’s good at a lot of things, but he’s _really_ good at cuddling, if someone can be good or bad at that. He’s just the right size for it, barely an inch shorter but thinner and less broad and easy enough to move around in the case of some fun manhandling. Sokka takes advantage of post-coital manhandling privilege to pull Zuko into his chest and throw a leg over his hip.

“Hey, pretty,” Sokka tells him, pressing a kiss into his hair, because that’s something he’s allowed to do now.

“Hi.”

Fingers, Zuko’s talented fingers, rub patterns into the back of his neck and scratch gently through Sokka’s hair, and Sokka is so tired and so happy that he could fall asleep right here, right now…

Until the growl erupts from his stomach.

Sokka stares down in betrayal at his own middle as Zuko bursts into laughter.

“We could have eaten first,” he points out with a wry smile.

Sokka shakes his head.

“Absolutely not,” he insists in reply. “We did everything exactly the way we were supposed to.”

“Everything, huh?” Zuko’s smile is crooked and toothy and those two words mean more than he’s actually saying.

Sokka nods.

“Yup,” he says. “Everything.”

It’s the right thing to say, because Zuko’s smile widens and he sits up, pulling Sokka with him.

“Come on, put on some pants and I’ll make lunch.”

“Or it could be naked lunch.”

“Or someone’s junk gets burnt and then we don’t bang it out again in a few hours like I want,” Zuko retorts without missing a beat. Sokka shrugs.

“Fair enough. A few hours, you say?” 

It’s Zuko’s turn to shrug.

“More or less. Ish. I mean, if you wanted.” Zuko twists his hands around the waistband of his sweats as he tugs them on. Sokka gapes at him.

“ _If I wanted?_ ” He doesn’t care that he’s naked; Sokka backs Zuko up against the wall and kisses him stupid. “On what planet do you think I won’t want? Trust me, I want.” Zuko grins against his lips.

“Then put on pants.”

“ _Fine_.” Sokka grumbles a little but puts his pants on. “The things I do for love.” He doesn’t mean to say it, not really (even though he’s fairly certain that Zuko called him the love of his life a week ago right before he fell asleep and Sokka has yet to call him out on it), but he means it anyway and won’t take it back.

Zuko doesn’t say anything but he goes pink all the way down his neck and it’s _adorable_. So adorable, in fact, that Sokka has to kiss him again. Zuko pulls away after a moment and a lingering nip of his lower lip and ducks his head a little to stare up at Sokka through his eyelashes.

“I thought you were hungry.”

“I am. I’m hungry for all the things.”

“ _Food,_ Sokka. Actual food,” Zuko insists, “Then other things. I’m _hungry._ ”

“Fine, fine,” Sokka allows and accepts Zuko’s hesitant kiss on the temple that makes his heart squeeze hard in his chest. “Come on then, Mr. Hungry. Let’s go eat, then we’ll talk about the other things.”

* * *

  
  



End file.
